Drabbles
by Mez the evil Brit
Summary: Miscellaneous short fics. I changed the first one's name so I could use it for the fifth drabble.
1. Foreigners

A one hundred word drabble, explaining some of the eccentricities of Riff Raff's outfit.

"Hurry up- the guests are nearly at the door."

"Wait a sec- there's a weird button. Why the fuck do earthlings put extra buttons on the **inside **of the shirt?"

"How the hell should I know? Now get a move on."

"Shit… maybe you're meant to put two buttons in one hole… but that would mean doubling the corner over…"

"Just leave the shirt. Ve'd never seen a vhatever-you-call-it before, I'm sure they von't notice it's gone."

"It's called a butler suit…and I'm ready now."

"You forgot the thing for your left boot."

"I'll tell them that's another Earthen custom."


	2. Pussy Got Your Tongue?

As with the previous drabble, I own nothing related to the Rocky Horror Picture Show other than a few odds and sods of merchandise.

In a darkened room, somewhere in the upper reaches of the castle, two figures lie still.

"Riff?"

"Mmm?"

"You know that thing vith the tongue?"

"Mmm"

"How many times did ve do that?"

In the murky light, it is just possible to see an indistinct hand raised.

"Mm."

"Five... ve've only ever done it vonce before"

"Mmm"

"Vant to do it again?"

A male voice coughs, then speaks, seemingly with great difficulty, "Not... for a while."

Liked it/ loathed it? Please let me know how to write better in a review.


	3. Forbidden Fruit

A cold room in the lower levels of the castle. The stone clad walls loom to a vaulted ceiling, illuminated only by flickering candlelight from the web-cloaked candelabra. Two dark figures move silently, one male, one female. Behind them, a rack of wickedly sharp knives and other steel implements adorns the rough-cut granite. One is missing.

It gleams bright as a sliver of the sunlight this room has never seen in the hand of the dark man. His other restrains the wrist of the woman as the knife cuts deep into plump, rosy skin. She cries out,

"Damnit Riff! I vanted the last apple."

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters,songs, plot twists, quotes, actors, actresses, cameramen, directors, producers, make up artists, wardrobe mistresses, in fact, anything to do with rocky horror other than excessive amounts of merchandise.

Reviews give me a nasty rash of plot bunnies.


	4. Heads Fair and Comely

Written for Sam in the hope she'll update this century.

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Powder grey clouds gathered overhead, threatening rain as a lone figure scraped a painstakingly neat rectangle clear of russety dead leaves. Seven foot by three of exposed loam dissolving softly into syrupy thick mud.

Riff Raff swore and wiped the back of his neck free from droplets, leaving a streak of grime. Beside him lay a small pile of bulbous white bodies, some partially veiled with thin scraps of brown, others baring their pale skins to the now pouring rain.

Swiftly, silently, they were shoved under the soil, stamped down and left without marker.

There would be daffodils next spring.

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It's exam season and I'm feeling meh-ish, I'd much rather be out planting flowers in the rain. To anyone reading this who looks at my cartoons- I have a whole sheet of stuff to draw when I'm not revising, so there will be updates, just not for a few weeks.


	5. The hardest button to button

"Ready"  
A slight nod.  
"Three, two, one, go"  
They sprinted through the door, his mouth agape and grinning, hers pressed in a thin line of amused determination. Shoving and stumbling, the siblings rounded the top of the landing;  
Riff's arm shot out to grab the banister pommel, putting him in the lead as he swerved round whilst she could merely skid 'til her hip hit the handrail, nearly tossing her down to the lobby below. 

By now her brother had bounded close to half the staircase down, so she swung up her leg and slid past into pole position. A jump, a scramble and she was off, ducking past curtains laden with dust that dropped on the brother catching at her apron strings.

Leaning on the lift to catch her breath, Magenta managed to choke out "_I _get to press the button."

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Little drabble written ages ago for Sam (Hughlover). She suggested the plot when I was bitching about not being able to think of anything to write, so all inanity is her's and all writing errors are mine. Point them out in a review and get a cyber cookie.


	6. Clean

I am not sure whether this story is mine. I came across it when cleaning out my hard drive and thought it was fit to post. If it's actually a copy of someone else's fic, please send me a link to it and I'll take this down.

* * *

Frank liked clean things.

Cleanliness was next to godliness and it took a true deity to bring inanimate matter to life. He had the laboratory lined with tiles, so much easier to wash off any revolting viscera the experiments might eject. Intimate visitors were always pre-prepared, their contaminated outer casings removed and replaced with wonderfully sterile apparel that neutralised any natural bacteria.

He kept things at arm's length, under wraps and handled with rubber gloves.

It was cathartic really. He was _ugly_- a rebellious fly in Frank's carefully constructed castle cake. Clever, yes, but so irritatingly unsightly like dust under the eyelid.


End file.
